Horace emerged from the portal in the Beeson Crypt and found Milton and Anna standing nearby in the cemetery. Their wide-eyed expressions showed their astonishment. Next to them stood Herman, Shadow perched on his shoulder. Immediately the falcon let out a loud shriek and circled over Horace. The three friends ran over to greet him.
“Thank goodness you’re safe!” exclaimed Horace.
“Horace, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Milton noted.
“I think I did—actually two.”
“You’re okay. That’s what’s most important.” Anna gave him a big hug. “I think Mr. Franken knocked us out before he got you. When we woke up, we found ourselves tied up on the floor of the carriage house. We saw that you were gone. But then Herman appeared through the Stout Scarab portal and freed us.”
“Yeah, and luckily I remembered what you said about the cemetery and the Benben Stone, so we came out here on our bikes,” said Milton.
“Herman rode yours,” said Anna with a smile. “It was a little small for him.”
“So Mr. Franken must have knocked me out at the museum and then driven me out here in his car,” Horace explained. “That all fits. But how did you know to come and help us?” Horace asked, turning toward Herman.
Herman nodded. “As I studied the maps of the Keepers, I noticed more and more of the Michigan portals were being destroyed. I realized it was only a matter of time before the portal in the Stout Scarab would also be destroyed and my chances of coming back permanently blocked. I couldn’t take that risk.”
“But Mr. Franken was waiting for you to come through the portal in the museum. That’s why he never destroyed it,” said Horace.
“He must have thought he could use Horace to get what he wanted and then catch you later,” said Anna.
“But where is Mr. Franken?” asked Milton.
“It was strange.” Horace paused for a moment, trying to piece everything together. “When I woke up here, Mr. Franken stole my beetle. He used it to open the Benben Stone. I got loose, and we fought over the beetle, and then . . . I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think we fell, or traveled, through the Benben Stone—I guess it’s a portal or something.”
“Yes, it is very possible, but few Keepers can accomplish such a feat,” Herman said.
“But how is that even possible?” asked Horace. “I thought it just held memories.”
“Your passion for history and the past is so strong, so real, that the stone must have sensed it.” Herman narrowed his eyes. “Tell me one thing, Horace, and it must be the truth. Did you open the Benben Stone on your own since we last spoke?”
Horace bit down on his lip. “Yes, I did. I just wanted to get some answers.”
Herman nodded but didn’t seem to be upset. “I probably would have done the same if I’d been in your shoes. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to feel all alone here in Niles and with questions no one can answer completely.” His eyes softened. “The stone is like a living book, and it wanted to show you the answers to your questions.” He paused. “What were you thinking about when you touched the stone?”
Horace furrowed his brow. “I think I was worried that Mr. Franken might find the treasury of the Keepers.”
“Where did you end up when you traveled through the Benben Stone?”
“Back in old Detroit. In Woodlawn Cemetery. It turned out to be the location of the treasury.” Horace hesitated. “But the treasury wasn’t full of gold or jewels or anything like that. It contains whatever the person visiting it is hoping to find,” answered Horace.
“Then what did Mr. Franken want with it?” asked Milton.
“He wanted to find the lost prophecy,” Horace answered.
“But how did Mr. Franken know about any of this?” asked Anna. “How did he know about the treasury, or the Benben Stone, or a lost prophecy?”
“And how was he able to open the Benben Stone using my scarab beetle? Not even Smenk was able to do that back in Egypt,” Horace said.
“He was once a Keeper,” Herman explained. “And he must have used Horace’s life force to trick his beetle into letting him open the Benben Stone. If he could get Horace close enough to the stone, his life force would be strong enough to power the beetle.”
All three kids look stunned by Herman’s revelation, especially Horace, who now understood what he had been feeling as he watched Mr. Franken open the stone. He had literally been drawing strength from Horace and using it to access the stone and its memories. The thought made Horace dizzy, and he swayed a bit. Anna rushed over to his side.
“Horace, you should probably sit down,” she said.
Horace nodded and sat on the cool marble step at the front of the tomb.
Herman looked over at Horace. “Now, it is important you tell me everything that has happened since I last saw you.”
Horace told him all that had happened that night. How when he came to, from being knocked out at the carriage house, he’d found himself in the cemetery lying against the Beeson Crypt. He went on to explain how Franken had broken into the crypt and, using Horace’s beetle, opened the Benben Stone searching for the treasury. He described their fight for control of the beetle and how he had somehow activated the Benben Stone portal. He told of them ending up in Woodlawn Cemetery in front of the Dodge mausoleum. There Franken had revealed that he was the person who had destroyed the portal at the farm. Horace struggled as he told them about Franken’s attempt to kill him. He finally ended by describing how the ghosts of the Dodge brothers appeared, saving Horace and trapping Franken in another portal.
“Where did they send him?” Anna asked.
“No one will know for certain,” Herman said, and then he added, “unless he appears in the pages of history.”
Milton and Anna cringed.
“But why did the Dodge brothers come to rescue me in the cemetery?” asked Horace. “I thought they were dead.”
“As a Keeper, we are sworn to protect, to guard, and to care for the past. But we are also tasked with the responsibility of taking care of one another. Like a family that stretches across time, we must always be willing to come to the aid of another Keeper if they are in danger or call for help,” Herman answered. “The Dodge brothers must have known you were in grave danger. And even as ghosts, they came back to the world of the living to help you.”
“But what did Mr. Franken do to upset the Order?” asked Horace, remembering what his grandmother had said in their last conversation.
Herman pointed inside the tomb to where the Benben Stone sat on its altar. A deep purple light pulsed from within the stone’s core. “You are strong-willed like your grandfather, and while you risked great danger accessing the stone without permission, I think you are ready. You deserve answers. And the stone is anxious to share them with you.”
Horace looked at the Benben Stone and then down at the beetle in his hand. It glowed a bright blue.
“The answer to that question resides as a memory in the stone.” Herman paused. “It may be painful, but the truth of the past is never something that should be avoided.”
The other kids looked at Horace. “Go ahead,” Anna whispered.
Horace bit down on his lip and stepped up into the tomb, toward the Benben Stone. He was afraid. He had seen its powers. And he feared what the stone would reveal.
As if reading his thoughts, Herman said, “Look deeply. It wants to share the story.” The stone was starting to pulse more rapidly as if mirroring Horace’s own heartbeat.
Horace nodded and placed his beetle into the stone’s indentation, locking it into place. Suddenly the stone erupted in light, and Horace was momentarily blinded. But soon, within the depths of the light, he could begin to see images form. These images were familiar. It was like flipping through the pages of a living book. He saw the Scarab Club in Detroit; he saw the building of the tomb in Woodlawn; and the burial of the Dodge brothers. Finally, he found the memory he was seeking. He dove deeper into it.
Horace saw his grandfather. He was standing with Mr. Franken inside the carriage house of the museum. Both men appeared to be in their twenties. Horace watched then as his grandfather pointed to the Stout car, got into it, and disappeared into the portal. Mr. Franken moved to follow him, but before he, too, disappeared, Horace could see a scarab beetle in the man’s hand. It was black.
The next scene flashed, and now both men looked older. They were in the wood-paneled room at the Scarab Club, standing across from each other at the table. They were arguing, and Horace’s grandfather was visibly upset. Horace could hear his words. “You cannot be so careless. The portals are not your personal gateways to the past for collecting trinkets and treasures. If you leave them open again, we will all be in danger.”
“I’ve been searching for the treasury as part of my mission to guard our Keeper history. Just tell me the location, and I won’t have to go searching around.”
“That is not for you to know. The treasury possesses all the secrets connected to the Order. You have yet to prove yourself as a worthy Keeper of that information.”
Mr. Franken slammed his hands down on the table in visible frustration. “I’m not a child. Stop treating me like one.”
“I will when you stop acting like one,” responded Horace’s grandfather.
Then a third scene appeared, showing Horace’s grandfather and Mr. Franken. They were in the Scarab Club, standing in front of the fireplace. Shadow was perched on his grandfather’s shoulder. Mr. Franken looked humbled. His eyes shifted nervously from side to side.
“I warned you,” stated Horace’s grandfather. “You can’t go wandering through the portals out of your own personal interest. You have continued to defy our rules and guidelines. We are protectors of history, not collectors. Relinquish the beetle.”
“But I won’t do it anymore,” Mr. Franken pleaded.
“You have said that before, but I will not give you such leeway again.”
“No, no!” Suddenly Mr. Franken’s eyes flashed with anger. “You are foolish; you have never realized the power we have. The way we could change history if we wanted to! No, I will never give you my beetle!”
As if responding to an unspoken command, Shadow swooped across, slashing Mr. Franken down his left cheek. The wound began to bleed. As the man put a hand to his face, Horace’s grandfather wrenched the beetle from Mr. Franken’s other hand.
“It is over.” And with those words, his grandfather took the beetle and threw it into the fire. There must have been some great magic there, because the beetle exploded in a shower of sparks, unlike anything Horace had ever seen.
And then the memory dissolved into darkness.
Horace staggered backward, struggling to grasp what he’d just seen. He turned toward Herman. “I don’t get it. If Mr. Franken was expelled from the Order, why did you allow him to stay here at the museum?”
Herman let out a deep sigh. “Your grandfather was a good and fair man; he wasn’t cruel. He thought he could keep an eye on Mr. Franken if he stayed in Niles. And none of us thought he would be a threat without his beetle.” Herman paused. “But we were wrong. His desire for revenge was far greater than we imagined. I’m sorry. Mr. Franken was able to use your beetle. He drew upon your life force to wield the power of the scarab.” Then Herman looked sad. “You may have been harmed because of it.”
Horace said, “It’s okay. I’m a little tired and maybe a little sore, but nothing a little Halloween candy can’t fix.”
They all laughed.
“Seriously, though.” Horace paused and then continued. “One last question, Herman.”
“Yes, Horace.”
“Are there any other Keepers in Niles?”
Herman nodded. “One.”
“Who?” Horace asked, almost jumping out of his shoes in excitement.
“It is not for me to say.” Herman turned to the other two kids. “It is getting late, and I think it is time you all head home. Your parents must be worrying.” He paused. “And, Anna and Milton, because you now know where the Benben Stone is kept, you, too, are responsible for its security. You have proven to be great friends to Horace and to the Order.”
Milton gingerly raised his hand. “Actually, I might not have been a good friend.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he had taken from the Scarab Club. He handed it to Herman. “I may have borrowed this.”
Herman smiled. “Thanks. I wondered where that had gone. I’ll be sure to return it. Take care of one another. Horace is lucky to have such loyal friends. And the Order will need your help soon. The time is coming when we fulfill our ultimate mission. A destiny that has awaited the Keepers since their original creation. And the three of you are going to play an important role. Now it’s time for you to go home and for me to return to Detroit.”
“How are you going to get back to the museum?” Horace asked.
“I’ll walk.”
“Are you sure?” said Horace. “You can use my bike.”
“I’ve spent some time in this town. I know my way around.” Herman smiled, then took a deep breath. “And this will give me a chance to think about all I’ve learned tonight from you and your friends.”
Herman followed them to the gate of the cemetery, and the three kids each gave the man a hug before saying a final good-bye.
Horace and his friends rode their bikes back into town. But before they went their separate ways, they stopped at the edge of Horace’s neighborhood. He turned to Anna and Milton. “Thanks for sticking by me even when I was acting like a jerk.”
“Anytime!” answered Anna.
“We’ve always got your back,” added Milton. “Just don’t keep any more secrets from us.”
“Don’t worry,” Horace answered. “I won’t.”
Shadow circled overhead.